Drive
by AnnabethLuna
Summary: Spike drives Angel home post-Destiny, and the two souled vampires reach an uneasy sort of agreement.


After everything, Spike drove him home.

He didn't offer, of course, and Angel didn't ask, but when he opened the back door and hauled himself into the car, Spike just grunted from the driver's seat and started the ignition.

They drove in a silence oddly both tense and relaxed. Mutual dislike still simmered between them, of course, but in some ways Angel wondered if that fight was just what they'd both needed to get the worst of the poison out.

It had been about a half hour, and Angel was lying across the backseat, close to sleep, when Spike spoke.

"I didn't do it to get in her pants, you know."

Angel remained silent. Not like he didn't know exactly what Spike was talking about, not that he wasn't seething with resentment over everything related to Spike and souls, but it was at least a little gratifying to know he'd struck a nerve.

Spike waited a moment, then snorted. "Didn't need it for that. Been in and out of there plenty before the soul."

Angel flinched, even though it hurt his whole body. He knew Buffy had slept with Spike – that was obvious from their discussion, and it wasn't like he had expected her to be celibate forever, or that he thought he had any control over who she did sleep with. She had her own life to live, after all. But – _before_ the soul?

"She slept with you before you got a soul?" he croaked. Couldn't help it.

Spike scoffed. "Couldn't bloody well sleep with you when you had one, could she? Nah, I wouldn't've gone if it weren't for that, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked. "You already had what you wanted from her" –

"Say that again," said Spike tightly, "and I will pull this car over and dump your useless corpse on the side of the road. You think sex was all I wanted from her?" He barked out a short, bitter laugh. "Might have done it for _your_ happiness, Gramps, but it wasn't enough for the demon in me, let alone the man." His voice dropped. "Oh, I knew she couldn't love me without a soul. Tried to fool myself into thinking it a few times, but I knew it. And after" –

He broke off. Angel sensed a touchy subject and, wanting what little revenge he could get, poked at it. "After what?"

"Never mind," Spike said shortly. "Just knew that she deserved more than a soulless demon. So I went off to make myself more."

"So it was still for her." Angel let out a snort of his own. " _Right thing to do_ , my foot."

"She was the only right thing I ever did." Spike's voice was so soft, Angel could barely hear it. "Lot of the bloody wrong, too, but – she made me better. Made me want to be better. Only thing that would have done it for the soul, and you _know_ it." His voice was almost hypnotic, or maybe it was just the truths he was telling. The things that Angel knew were truth. "You _know_ that demon doesn't care about the right thing. Love was the only thing strong enough to make mine want to."

 _That demon_. Angel had gotten used to dealing with the stabs of conscience – they came regularly as it was; he knew that no matter what, he'd rather have the soul and the pain than have neither. But he also knew that he only wanted the soul when he had it – that when it wasn't in him, there was no part that yearned for its return.

It was something he'd known for a long time, but he never wanted to fully allow in. Because if he stopped believing in his own potential for good, he knew he'd lose the tenuous grasp on the soul he did have.

But Spike –

"How could you want to do the right thing?" he asked. Forced the words out. "Even for her – I do know the demon. How could you fight it?"

"Couldn't," was Spike's reply. He let out a bitter laugh. "I never wanted to do the right thing. But in the end, I wanted to _want_ to. That was what made the difference." His next words were far away, as though he weren't speaking to Angel anymore. "For her, to be hers . . ."

"Like you ever were," Angel breathed. Not really wanting to be heard, more because the words wouldn't stay inside like they should.

Of course Spike heard him. "Oh, I was," he said. "Still am. She may never be mine – though she sure as hell isn't yours, either – but I'll always be hers."

"Eternal love," muttered Angel. "That was always your thing. Sure worked out with Dru, didn't it?"

"You know, before you keep talking about things you know _nothing_ about, you might want to remember who's driving here," snapped Spike, all taunting gone from his voice. "Everything that happened to Dru happened because of _you_ , so why don't you put that bloody tortured martyr soul of yours to use in shutting the hell up?"

"Why didn't you stake me?"

The words came out before Angel realized he'd even said them. This, he realized, was the real question. Yeah, Buffy would have been mad. But Spike hadn't told her he was alive anyway. Hadn't gotten anyone to call her while he was a ghost, or when he knew he wasn't going to hell, and he'd let Angel talk him into staying, even just temporarily. Whatever Spike had said, it wasn't just about Buffy.

Spike was silent, so Angel continued. "You have enough reason to do it. I know I did awful things to Drusilla, to you. We've been rivals for decades. It's not about Buffy, Spike. What kind of a conscience do you have? And why did it decide that I was worth sparing?"

Long silence again, and then Spike's voice. Soft. "I don't know." He laughed. "Haven't got a sodding clue why I didn't dust you. I hate you. I've hated you for years." He broke off there, but Angel knew the words he didn't say. _But I loved you, too._

"Yeah," he said instead. "I know." _Me, too_. "I wouldn't have done it, either," he added. "If I'd gotten the chance."

"If you'd gotten the chance," mocked Spike. "How noble of you. If you could have beaten me, you wouldn't have killed me. That just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You know what I mean," said Angel quietly.

Before Spike could answer, another car's brights flashed in their faces, and he cursed violently, slamming their own on for a good few seconds longer than necessary. Angel squeezed his eyes shut, imprints of the light burned into the backs, but he didn't say anything. Waited to see if Spike would respond to what he had said.

He didn't, for a long time. Angel would have wondered if he'd forgotten, but he knew that he hadn't.

They were almost at the LA city limits when Spike finally replied. "Yeah," he admitted. "I know."

Angel said nothing beyond that. Needed to say nothing else. He just lay back across the seat and closed his eyes, letting the motion of the car lull him almost to sleep. He knew that neither of them would ever mention this conversation again – nor did he have any desire to spend more time than he had to in Spike's company.

But somehow, right now, it didn't really matter.


End file.
